Lucille
by SeeYourSunshine
Summary: John warned his sister, Lucille, to stay away from Paul McCartney. But the more Lucille tries to avoid Paul, the more the two become attracted to one another.
1. Matchbox

There was a dark feeling that lurked in the pit of her stomach when she was in Liverpool at night. It didn't both John nearly as much, if at all. Even though he tried not to show it, it did bother George. He pretended he didn't care, simply for John's approval. George was significantly younger than John was and (although George was very mature) John felt embarrassed whenever he was with George. If George wasn't a very competent guitarist, there was no way that John would have let him join the group.

But George _was _good at the guitar – great, in fact. Paul had suggested that George join the group to John. John didn't even want to hear George play when he heard how young the kid was. But they desperately needed another guitarist, so John held the audition.

Three days later, George was in the group.

She still hadn't met Paul McCartney. Whenever she asked George why she hadn't met Paul, he muttered an excuse about him being busy with family things or that he was ill with the flu. When she finally plucked up the courage to ask John why she couldn't meet Paul, he answered with, "I don't want you meeting him. He's a real charmer. I'm not having him put the moves on my little sister.

She had frowned at that. Usually, John didn't care about the guys she hung out with. Why was he like this about Paul?

John was kind-of a protective brother, but at the same time he could be negligent – cut her down when she needed help, ignore her when she was in trouble. He was very double-sided.

"Lucille," George nudged her, "what do you think?"

"Huh?" Lucille asked. She'd been lost in her own thoughts, not paying attention to any conversation between George and John.

"About the set-list," George said. "Long Tall Sally or Matchbox?"

"Matchbox," Lucille replied. "Definitely Matchbox." It was one of her favourite songs, ever.

"Are you sure?" George asked. "Paul does Sally really well. His voice –"

John's elbow barged into George's ribcage, deliberately. "Shut up," he ordered the younger boy.

Lucille rolled her eyes. This was John taking the big brother thing too far.

"We're here," George spoke up. The Casbah Club – Pete and Mona Best's house-turned-club.

There was already a crowd of kids lined up to go inside. John and George barged their way through the crowd.

Lucille did the same, but very gingerly. People stared at her as if she was pushing in, so she tried to look like she was with George and John.

As they moved their way through the club, there were people already infiltrating the vicinity, and they were already drinking. The air was clouded with smoke and anticipation. Everyone here loved The Beatles.

George and John stepped out onto the patio, so Lucille followed.

Pete Best was out there already, smoking a cigarette. "Hi," he greeted John and George – not Lucille, though. He gave her a curious, disapproving glare. "Who's the bird?" he asked, nor directly speaking to Lucille herself. Lucille turned bright pink from humiliation.

"I'm –" Lucille started, but John cut her off.

"She's me sister," John told him, "and George's best mate."

"Mm," Pete grunted in response, clearly unimpressed. Lucile's pink blush turned red – it was very uncomfortable.

"This is Pete, our drummer," George filled her in, sensing the tension.

Lucille nodded. She knew who Pete was from photographs and stories. A reasonable drummer who seemed on the outside of friendships between the other boys.

"Paul'll be here any moment," John said. He sounded less than thrilled. That was strange – usually when John talked about Paul, it lifted his mood. Then Lucille realised that he simply didn't want his sister and best mate to meet.

Although she knew the reasoning behind his decision, she didn't understand it. She was a big girl, and could take care of herself.

"Hey, Mac!" George grinned as Paul McCartney loped into the room.

Lucille's breath was taken away as she looked Paul. He was gorgeous: dark hair, big hazel eyes framed by long lashes, resting below immaculate, perfectly arched eyebrows. Lucille could not help but notice that Paul looked a little feminine.

"Ah, Luce," George said. "This is the delectable Mr. McCartney."

Paul chuckled. "Paul," he introduced himself after brushing past George and a not-amused John. He held out his hand, which Lucille shook shyly. "I'm Lucille."

"Cool. 'Cilla," Paul gave her a charming grin that made her heart flip.

"I don't –" But before Lucille could tell him that she didn't usually go by Cilla, John halted the conversation before it could progress any further.

"Alright. Show's gonna start in 5. Better set up."

Moody Pete and the good-looking Paul headed off, followed by George. Lucille began to walk off towards the crowd inside so that she could watch the boys perform, but John stopped her. "Oi, Luce. Remember what I said. He's a heartbreaker, that kid. And from what I can see – you blushin' and whatnot – you've already fallen for him. Am I right?" John asked.

"John, I barely even know him," Lucille protested.

"Am I right?" John repeated, louder and angrier. His voice then softened. "Look, Luce. Just don't get caught up with him. He's…" John hesitated, "… he's a bit of a dickhead when it comes to chicks. Like me."

Lucille frowned and John walked off past her. John was one of the biggest pricks going. Could soft-faced, sweet-hearted Paul be the same as him?


	2. Lucille

Sort of lost heart for this fanfiction so I stopped uploading for it. My friend **Emily** convinced me to continue, so here it is! Please review, I'd love to know your thoughts!

* * *

Hot, humid, sweaty, and loud. The environment of a concert was the best part. Or second best, especially when you were watching a band like The Beatles perform. Lucille grinned as they launched into a rocking performance or Rock and Roll Music. Then they played Matchbox, as Lucille had advised. Then John stood to the mike: "Paul's gonna sing ya the next one, Tutti Frutti! Take it away, Macca!"

Lucille smiled. She loved Tutti Frutti – it was an awesome song. But, when George, John and Pete began to bash out the chords and beat for the Little Richard number, Paul was playing a completely different song – one Lucille had never heard before. He opened his mouth and sang the first few words, and with frowns set upon their faces (George and Pete confused; John furious) the other lads joined in.

"_Lucille, baby, do your sister's will,  
Lucille, baby, do your sister's will.  
Well you ran off and married,  
But I love you still."_

Paul's hazel eyes searched the crowded room and settled on Lucille herself. She blushed, though she didn't really know why.

"_Well, I woke up this morning;  
Lucille was not in sight –"_

Not able to take the bassist serenading his sister anymore, John chucked his guitar to the ground and stormed off. The music drifts off, and the crowd boos, unaware of what just went on.

Lucille couldn't believe what Paul had done. She pushed her way out of the crowd and shuffled out of the room, and shuffled outside to see John. By the time she got to him, Paul, Pete & George were already there with him. She went to walk away, not wanting to get involved, but then she heard John shout out angrily; "she's my fucking sister!"

Paul mumbles in response, "I sang Lucille. Big deal."

"It's a fucking huge deal!" John argued as George tried to calm him down before he did anything stupid. John pushed George away, ignoring him. "You don't even know her and you're already putting the moves on her!"

Paul sighed. "Look, I'm sorry –"

John marched off and grabbed Lucille's hand, dragging her off with him. "Come on, Lucille. We're leaving."

Lucille followed him. It could have just been her imagination, but she thought she heard Paul say "bye, Cilla" in the darkness.

Lucille awoke the next morning, still in her clothes from last night. She'd barely had anything at all to drink so last night's events were fresh in her mind. She suddenly wished she'd drunk more. Her first encounter with Paul McCartney hadn't gone down as well as she'd hoped. Plus, John would be furious this morning. What if she'd ruined John's and Paul's friendship?

Lucille tried to push the thought out of her mind and got out of bed. She walks towards her dresser and looked in the mirror. Last night's make up caked her face in smudges and streaks, so she washed it all off her face. She had brown hair that was long and naturally wavy. Her eyes were brown, and if she had to pick her favourite facial feature, she would choose her lovely long black lashes.

Lucille got undressed and took a shower, then put on a pair of white stockings and a floral baby doll top. She blow-dried her hair and pinned it to the side. She didn't like to wear make-up during the day, and she didn't plan on going out, so she decided against it. She walked downstairs for breakfast, but the second she saw Paul McCartney sitting at her kitchen table, his guitar on his lap, strumming softly, she wished she'd at least used some foundation to cover up her freckles.

Paul gazed up at her, smiling softly, "Ah, hello, luv."

"Hi," Lucille muttered, going to the fridge and taking out the milk.

"Cilla, isn't it?" Paul asked, watching her closely.

"Just Lucille," she replied, flustered. As if he didn't know.

"Just Lucille, then," Paul corrected himself.

She grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard. "Where's John?" she asked.

"Upstairs, with George," Paul told her.

"Why aren't you with them?" she asked, pouring milk into a bowl.

"You put the milk into the bowl first," he noted.

"Yep," she chuckled. "It's a habit."

"I do that too," Paul grinned at her.

Lucille smiled back at him, but stopped when she realised he'd just found a way out of answering her question.

"Why are you down here?" she repeated.

Paul grinned. "I wanted to apologise – to you. I just went out on a whim. Lucille's a cool song, and it just seemed apt at the time. I didn't mean anything by it.

Lucille couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. She kind of wanted the song to mean something. But why? She hardly even knew him.

"Let's start over. I'm Paul McCartney," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.

She shook it gingerly. "Lucille Lennon," she answered. She almost smiled. God, he was so corny.

"Delighted to meet you, Miss Lennon," Paul said as he brought her hand to his lips, gracing them with a peck. Lucille giggled, then John's words flashed in her mind. She couldn't fall for Paul.

Her smile dropped. "I just realised… I need to… to be somewhere… not here. Sorry. I'll be back soon. Later. Maybe. Bye"

And with that, she hurried off, leaving her cereal uneaten and Paul with a sad, confused feeling.


	3. Young Blood

**A/N: **Thanks for the lovely reviews, everyone! This is the third chapter; I'd love for you to review or PM me with your opinions and thoughts! At this point in time, it seems as though Lucille is overthinking. But is she? I wonder if this chapter will change your minds!

On a whim, Lucille had bought the CD that _Lucille _was on. And now, it was stuck in her head.

As she baked a batch of cookies, she kept humming the song to herself. But when it got to her favourite part, she found that she had to sing along.

"_Well, I woke up this morning  
Lucille was not in sight  
I asked my friends about her –"_

"But their lips were tight," a voice at the back cut in voluntarily. "Yeah, I've kinda been doing the same thing."

It was Paul, whom Lucille had avoided the past week. She definitely couldn't get caught up in a bad relationship right now – especially not one involving her brother's best friend.

"Haven't seen you for a while," Lucille said, trying to act as if she hadn't been avoiding Paul.

"Eight days," Paul grinned.

Lucille looked up at him. What could John possibly have meant? How could this sweet, baby-faced young man possibly ever want to hurt a girl? He looked so kind and caring.

"You've been counting?" Lucille chuckled jokingly.

"Of course," Paul said, softly.

Lucille smiled shyly. Now, John was most certainly wrong. She was sure of it. And anyway, who was he to say who she could and couldn't hang out with?

"Hey, Lucille. The lads and I are gonna go out and play a game of footy. Wanna come?" Paul asked, his perfect eyebrows rising with his query.

"Depends on who 'the lads' are," Lucille replied.

Paul grinned. Nothing got past this girl, "Oh, just me, George, John."

"No Pete?"

"No Pete."

Lucille hesitated. "Nah. You kidding? I suck at sport."

"Well, at least you'll even out the teams," he told her.

"As well as ruin the game," Lucille replied.

"Sure, you will. If you don't come, the game will be ruined."

Lucille laughed out loud. Paul could be so charming. Then that thought made her bite her lip anxiously. Was he being so lovely for better… or worse? Was he just looking for someone to toy around with?

Lucille pushed that thought aside. Paul was nice. John couldn't predict how Paul was going to treat her.

"Alright. I'll come. But don't feel pressured to choose me for your team," Lucille said.

Paul just laughed and said: "Who else would I pick for my team? John's blind as a bat and George is scrawny and almost afraid to chase after a ball. And even If they could play for bloody Liverpool, I'd still choose you any day of the week."

Lucille giggled, "We'll lose!"

"Don't care. Come on, Cil… Lucille. It will be fun, I swear!"

"Fine," she gave in.

Paul grinned. "I knew I'd get you to come around."

Lucille rolled her eyes playfully as George and John walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Mac. Are you coming for football?" John asked. Paul nodded.

"What about you, Luce? Will you come?" George asked his friend.

John snorted. Paul ignored him and cut John off before he could make any rude remark. "Yeah, come with us, Luce? It'll be gear."

Lucille told them she'd come, but something was bothering her. Why hadn't Paul told the other boys that he'd already asked her?

Lucille was placed on Paul's team; John and George on the other. Lucille had changed into her gym clothes, as had the guys.

_What am I doing here?_ Lucille wondered. She felt awkward, handing out with her brother and his friends, even though she and George were once close. As she stood on the field with Paul taunting John & George about how they would definitely win, Lucille noticed a police car in the distance. Her body went rigid. There was a cop, and he was looking straight at John. John was known to do stupid things, but had he done anything worthy of a police officer's time and attention?

"Lucille, ready?" Paul asked her. She nodded, suddenly having the urge to protect her brother. Her throat was too dry to speak, though. "Luce? What are you looking… at…" George trailed off when he spotted the police car.

"Shit, run!" John ordered.

"No!" Lucille stopped him. "Running will make it a dozen times worse."

"She's right; we've been running for weeks. Surely we can't get in too much trouble. Paul had his reasons –" George was cut off by Lucille.

"Wait, what? Paul? So this isn't about you, John?"

John scoffed. He would have answered, but the sound of the police car door opening startled him.

"Fuck this! Let's go!" Paul urged them as he raced down the field. Lucille, John, and George ran after him. There was this cold, disappointed feeling in Lucille's stomach as she ran. No, this couldn't be why John didn't want Lucille around Paul… could it? John had said he was a player, a heartbreaker, a womaniser, or at least implied that. Was Paul a murderer, a thief, a drug dealer? There was only one thing she could do to find out.

"What was that about?" Lucille asked as Paul ushered them into a quiet alleyway.

"Paul's in trouble," John sort-of-explained to his sister.

"Yeah, I realised!" Lucille snapped. "I mean why?"

"It's no big deal," Paul tried to tell her.

"No big deal?! Paul, there was a cop trailing you!"

"Just stay out of it," Paul hissed, turning away sharply and walking off quickly.

Lucille was in utter shock. How could Paul be kind, caring, soft and sweet at one moment… but then a rude man that was being chased by police at another?

These thoughts kept Lucille's mind busy on the way home, and when she was lying in bed that night, eyes wide awake, radio in her hands, switched on and playing quietly into the dark room.

"_And now, a great track, Lucille!"_

She changed the station, just two seconds into the song. She couldn't bear to hear it. Why not? Why did she care about Paul, or his stupid secret? He wasn't worth her time. The new station was playing Young Blood, a song Lucille hadn't heard for a while. But it was a good song, and it reminded her how young she really was in a way. She had a whole life ahead of her, and she didn't need to make her mind up about Paul yet. But humans naturally form opinions – it's hard to not form one. And her opinion was that for once, John Lennon had been right. He was right when he told her to stay away from Paul McCartney. And he was right that Paul McCartney was trouble.


End file.
